


Catching the Tell

by thedarkestdaisy



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-30 21:44:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3952873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedarkestdaisy/pseuds/thedarkestdaisy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miles doesn't catch on to things very quickly. <br/>But when he does he learns to come to terms with it fast.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catching the Tell

**Author's Note:**

> Not Beta'd.  
> My computer finally decided to work with me before shutting down and deleting everything.

Everyone is stumbling back to the so-called war tent as the sun is setting, painting the sky with golds and reds. In the background Miles can hear the sounds of yells coming from the medical tent and a few more explosions far away from the front-lines into Patriot territory. The giant gash on his upper arm is feeling hot and pulsing with his heart beat. He isn't looking forward to getting that stitched up. His ribs feel like shit, every breath leaves a deep ache in his side- surely due to the moment he threw himself off a horse and into a clueless looking Patriot ready to take a shot at of his sort of friend's son. 

He glares at the ground in front of him as he walks through the camp, processing things that he did and saw just moments ago. He'd been keeping his eyes on Charlie the entire time. She was good- great even, but sometimes it only takes one small misstep to lose someone. But as it would turn out he didn't need to. Bass was there at her side, taking hits and blocking them before she knew anything was aimed at her. Miles knew about Bass' blind spot he acquired during their times in the marines and apparently so did Charlie, never letting anyone get three feet within range from Bass' left side. 

It made him happy to know that two of the most important people in his life realized that they needed to protect one another. However as he thought more on the subject he frowned.

Things had been going eezy breezy with the Patriots lately. Now that they were working with the forces of the Texas Rangers those little khaki cocksuckers were losing their edge. Battles that once lasted weeks were only lasting a few days and he was cutting down more and more inexperienced men the more he fought. Pretty soon the Patriot alliance would have no one left to fight for them, especially if Blanchard's spies were doing their job of spreading the word of how entirely crooked the new guys representing the United States of America are. 

He dips his head as Connor holds the flap to the tent open for him and tries not to wince as the movement reminds him of the pain in his ribs. He looks around taking stock of the people who made it back somewhat alive. He doesn't have to worry about Aaron, Gene, or Rachel- those three have set up base in the medical tent. 

A few commanding officers are there; bloodied and pulling shell casings out of one of their own. They don't look like they're ready to discuss what they've all been dealing with yet but that's okay. Miles finds that he still needs time to catch his breath before he gives out more commands and decides on a plan to finish the rest of the Patriots by nightfall. Connor looks a little ragged for wear and there's a giant goose egg on the side of his head from where Miles saw him get hit in the head with a baseball bat (because apparently people were using those as weapons in war now- fuckers). He always knew the Monroe clan was full of a bunch of stubborn, hard-headed smartmouths- but that kid had a fucking thick skull under that mop of curly black hair. He'd keep an eye on him throughout the night and make sure there weren't any brain injuries to go along with that concussion. Connor had his arm wrapped from his shoulder to his wrist and Miles couldn't help but think he'd overdone the wrapping or that there was something really gruesome under that gauze. 

Then his eyes wander off to the side where Bass and Charlie are gathered. 

She has an old weathered shirt against the crown of her head, trying to staunch the flow of blood that has already made dried trails of red down her face. The betraying child-like pink color of her tank top is tarnished with blood all down the front, when he first saw her running around on the field he thought she was in her last few moments of life until she shot him a dorky thumbs up and turned around to nearly decapitate some poor fucker who thought it would be a good idea to mess with the little girl running around drenched in blood. Her hands are dark and covered in dirt filled cuts. Her lip looks split open and Miles has a good feeling that she had kicked someone's ass for it. Her leather jacket is tied around her waist and he has to wonder how she never loses the damn thing. She's a sticky mess of sweat, dirt and dust but her hair is still in those perfect waves of honey and her eyes look electric blue with the high of the fight still coursing through her veins. She looks like some crazy goddess of war.

Bass doesn't look much better. The entire back part of his jacket is covered in bloody mud which means someone out there lived long enough to get him on his back until they were either pulled off and/or killed. He's missing one of his swords and Miles has half the idea to go and look for it in one of the dead bodies. The smattering of reddish brown dried droplets leads Miles to believe he got caught in his opponents arterial spray. He's holding his shoulder though, which mean it's either dislocated or there's a wound but he can't see any blood and the jacket looks to be perfectly intact there. The front part of his shirt reveals that at some point someone did get close enough to get a good swipe at him, but it's not bleeding and the worst part about it is probably going to be removing the shirt that had congealed to the opened skin and dried blood. He looks like the very monster Miles had envisioned him as.

But then he does something that throws Miles off the metaphorical skyscraper. He lightly grasps Charlie's hand holding the bloodied shirt to pull it down and inspects the wound on her head. He doesn't let go of her and uses the hand from his injured arm to gently push a lock of sweaty curls behind her ear. Bass frowns and says something softly under his breath that makes her smile despite the pain of a split lip. He notices that too when it reopens with new, wet redness as the corners of her mouth pull at it. His thumb brushes the space below it just above the jut of her chin. She takes and deep breath and it exhales as a tension filled sigh before knocking his hand away. Charlie glares up at him before her eyes look down and soften at the sight of the gash through the front of his shirt. Her hands splay across his chest in the area above it and she quietly berates him for something which in turn makes him grin down at her, the lines around his eyes crinkling with silent mirth. She shakes her head at him and goes to lift the shirt off the dried wound and he grimaces as it reopens. Charlie sucks her lips into a straight line as she looks at it. Miles can tell that Bass is assuring her that it's just a flesh wound, hardly superficial and she nods her head, believing him but not okay with it. Then she sighs again with relief and looks up at Bass with an expression Miles has never seen cross her features before; it is soft and delicate and unsure. She lifts her index finger up to her lips, giving the pad of her finger a tiny kiss before turning it to Bass' face where a small cut graces his cheek bone. He catches her wrist in a soft grip and moves her finger over his lips where he softly gives it a kiss of his own.

Miles doesn't know what to think of it, especially after the two of them jump apart in a tizzy after they hear a harried cough from a ranger trying to knock fluid out of his lungs. Everything he just saw makes him want to drag Rachel out of the med-tent and let her have a go on his sort of-best friend. But that soft touch they shared is not a result of lust-filed nights or flirtatious exchanges. It is the result of something that took time in the making, moments of doubt that turned into steadfast trust. That all the fleeting glances he saw between the two of them turned into meaningful looks and nonverbal communications, that every time they looked away from one another he's mistaken the smile as sarcastic when in reality is was genuine. That every subtle touch- be it the time he watched Bass tease her and place his fingers in the shape of an “L” above her forehead because she would never know its meaning or when she leaned over Bass' shoulder and had to wrap her arm around his neck because she was losing her footing. Bass had laughed at her and tucked a wave of curls behind her ear before continuing on and Charlie sighed against Bass' neck when he gripped her arm and held onto her as she regained her ground  
\- every moment they lingered on one another for just a second too long. 

How could he not have noticed these things? They've been showing their tells the entire time and he's been too thick to notice it. Whatever they have between them is too far into the works to be stopped now. 

Miles sighs and drags a dirt-covered hand over a weary face. He looks at them one more time. Bass has moved across the room to check on Connor and his head injury but he doesn't miss the way Bass' eyes keep wondering to Charlie as she pats at her head with the bloody shirt. She pulls it away and inspects it, noting that there is no more new blood marring the soft blue fabric in her hands. 

Another shock comes to him when he realizes hes seen that shirt on Bass a hundred times.

Holy Shit, has he always been this fucking clueless?!

She looks up and smiles when she catches his eyes. Charlie moves with ease through the other men in the tent to stop directly in front of him. Her eyes sweep his figure, looking for anything life threatening inhuries to his person.

“You look terrible.” She says in her cheeky smart-mouthed way. The familiar tone puts him at ease. 

“The next time I go into battle I'll make sure to wear my three piece suit. I keep forgetting to pick it up from the dry-cleaners.” He frowns with mock worry. She smiles up at him and he swears he can see sunshine in her eyes when she looks up at him like that. He doesn't want to hurt her and tell her to leave Bass alone. He doesn't want Bass to hurt her by forcing the man to leave her alone either. He doesn't want anything in this fucking world to hurt her at all.But as she leans up to quickly give a peck on his cheek he realizes that he loves her far more than he thought he could. That she has saved the very part of his soul that was lost to him for what he thought might be forever. She deserves what ever the hell she wants at this point.

And if she's decided she wants Sebastian Monroe then he will let her have him.

This time when she goes to leave the tent to check in with her mother he catches the look she and Bass share just before she turns away. He watches her like a man watches his lover leaving a room, knowing that they will come back for them later. When she smiles at him she is clearly saying that she won't be gone for long. They nod and she leaves the two men staring at the flap of the tent as it falls into place.

Miles frowns again when he comes to the conclusion that two of the most important people in his life not only realize that they need to protect each other but also that they have loved each other longer than he's known.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it. I enjoy writing things from Miles' POV but I sometimes fear I'm not very good at it. So I suppose I should give myself points for practicing.


End file.
